#kerric

I struggle to control my nature at times.

I’m asking others to trust me after I did a terrible thing.

I should extend the same trust to Astarion as we’re in similar situations.

(Also kind of sexy)

Being on the other end of bloodlust is kinda nice. Giving instead of taking.

Maybe let him have just a little bit more

I know death and know where this is going and I don’t care. This is best for everyone’s safety.

*Gets revived the next morning* I guess we’re still doing this *sigh*

*Goes over to Astarion* I’m not even angry. Let me know if you need a nibble in the future.

player aesthetics, anyone? :Lc

And here we have the follow up to yesterday's prompt. A day of dealing with necessary things before it's back to figuring out this tadpole business.

Disapproval

Somehow, he’s still alive. With the exception of Astarion, everyone’s looking at him like he might murder them in their sleep, as recent events prove they should, but they believed him when he said he didn’t know why and had no memory of actually doing it. He hopes none of them come to regret that leniency but at least now everyone can be on their guard. 

Shadowheart organizes the burial, even if the rights of Shar are likely different from anything Alfira would have wanted in life, at least it’s something. They refuse to let Kerric help. Another hurt but one he shouldn’t have been surprised by. It’s not as though digging a hole in the ground would in any way go towards atoning for what he’d done.

Instead Kerric makes his way down the stream bordering the camp, strips himself naked, and wades into the cold water. It’s shallow here, enough that he can lay down on the rocky bed and let the running water wash over him. He should scrub his hands, make sure the dried blood beneath his nails is gone, any visible reminder of the deed removed. He lacks the strength or will though. So he lays there, letting the water work as it will, until his limbs go numb and he can’t ignore his shivering body screaming for warmth. 

I was tagged by @sealriously-sealrious back on Wednesday (thank you!) I don't have a big project I'm working right now but I am having snippets of thoughts about Baldur's Gate. Here's my durge, Kerric, pondering being called "Peace Bringer" by the myconids.

Peace Bringer

The darkness of the Underdark surrounds him like a comforting blanket. Sleep should come easier than this. They fought and killed the duergar, some of who he had the pleasure of killing more than once. Then they killed Glut, his knife slicing pleasantly through the velvety flesh. He’s tired, his body aches from the work of the day, and yet he stares into dark nothingness pondering the Sovereign’s words, “I name you Peace-Bringer”. 

Lies. 

There’s nothing about him that brings peace to others, except for maybe the peace of eternal slumber, a rest slowly and painfully earned, or so the madness in his blood tells him. He cannot be, should not be, one who brings peace. He accepted the fight to have a reason to kill. He slew the other Sovereign because the rush of blood was still loud in his ears. He told himself killing the duergar was enough. Helping the myconids provided an outlet, nothing more. 

Peace-Bringer. 

The words move through his mind, slow and heavy like footsteps trudging through piles of muck and viscera. Wrong. They must be wrong. Even if he helped, they must be…

theymustbetheymustbetheymustbe

But maybe…maybe…

1. Kerric learns how to give hugs.

2. Kerric tells Halsin about killing Alfira. Everyone else in camp knows so he should know what kind of person Kerric really is.